


kissing is a skill of mine

by unicyclehippo



Series: Blue Girls Have The Most Fun [22]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, plus special mentions to keg reani tori & others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22207213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicyclehippo/pseuds/unicyclehippo
Summary: prompt: basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kissor, beau has enjoyed her time with a number of girls. but until recently, she's never. y'know. the whole feelings thing.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Series: Blue Girls Have The Most Fun [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824289
Comments: 2
Kudos: 162





	kissing is a skill of mine

When Beau was fifteen, she was kissed by a thief. Tori was two years older and flush on the success of their latest heist and when Beau laughed her braying laugh at a snide comment Tori had lobbed in the direction of one of her crew, Tori had stolen a kiss. It wasn’t anything that Beau wouldn’t have given her but that’s not how Tori worked; the thrill was in the _theft_ , in the surprise. In the win.

When Beau was seventeen and newly claimed by the monks, she kissed a girl behind the tavern she had snuck out to. She was warm, her hair the colour of fire, and the smiles she sent Beau’s way heated her up like nothing else. Beau stole her away behind the back of the tavern and when she had tried another line on the girl, she’d rolled her eyes. _There’s better things your mouth could be doing_ , she’d told Beau, and that was true enough.

When Beau was nineteen and deep in another lesson on Dwarvish, a language she’s certain she’ll never grasp or even need to fucking learn, she spies a young woman in the library whose noble dresses settled in the kinds of perfect layers Beau never could manage to work out. The look in her eyes was familiar enough, though, and it didn’t take much for Beau to get her to follow her into a reading room few frequented; she let the woman kiss her speechless and forget about foreign words for a while. There’s better things her mouth could be doing.

Beau is twenty-three and she’s lost a friend. She doesn’t want to talk about it. None of the words would be right, not from her. She lets a companion fuck the words out of her head.

Beau is twenty-three and she’s rescued her friends—most of them—and the buffest chick she’s ever met has been looking at her like she’s brilliant, like she’s not a major fuck-up, even when Beau manages to accidentally insult her to her face. Beau kisses her too, pins her to the floor of the building where her friends had been tortured, and bites back words, bites skin.

Beau is twenty-four and a woman with a fuckin’ halo sidles in the place beside Beau and smiles up at her with beautiful golden eyes. Beau kisses her. Of course she does. What is she supposed to say? It’s a thank you and a see you later and for a little while she doesn’t have to think, so it’s nice.

Beau is twenty-four and in love with her best friend and everything in her screams to just kiss her, to show her how she feels, because that’s what this mouth does best. Everything else comes out wrong; but kissing? Kissing she’s good at. She’s _great_ at it, actually. So she surges forward and presses her lips to Jester’s, kisses her until she’s dizzy with it.

‘Beau,’ Jester laughs, licks kiss-swollen lips. ‘Beau, what - what does this _mean_ though-‘

Beau’s heart stutters. She presses her lips to Jester’s cheek. To the corner of her eye where lashes flutter. Drags them down over the swell of her cheek to her jaw. Sets a feather-light kiss to the corner of her mouth.

It has to be enough, right? Enough for Jester to understand?

‘Beau,’ Jester beams up at her. She knows. She _has_ to know. ‘Tell me.’ When Beau ducks to kiss her again, Jester meets her just as eagerly but still she says when they part, the words puffing out against her lips, sending them tingling, ‘I want to hear it.’

‘Why? Can’t you - there’s better things I can do with my mouth,’ she says with a rakish tilt, a wink.

Jester turns a lovely shade of purple. And crosses her arms. Juts her chin out, stubborn.

Beau doesn’t know how to say these things. Doesn’t _want_ to—not when she knows how grating the words are compared to soft lips, how her laugh isn’t as good as her kiss, how that’s what people want.

She must have closed her eyes at some point because she’s surprised when Jester presses a syrup sweet kiss at the corner of her mouth. ‘Tell me,’ Jester demands. ‘Tell me.’

Beau’s throat grips tight around the words, all her words, anything she could possibly say. Her mind falls entirely blank and she stares past Jester, down to where the desk they are leaned against meets the wall. She swallows. Jester must have realised something is wrong— _With me_ , Beau thinks in faint disgust—because with a little shift, she’s just hugging Beau now. Legs bracketing Beau’s slim hips, tail joining her arms in looping around Beau’s waist.

‘Can’t even smile right, and you want me to tell you - ‘ Beau’s throat seizes again. She clears her throat a few times.

‘That’s not true—you have a very pretty smile!’ Jester insists, leaning back so she can see Beau’s face. Whatever she sees isn’t a smile and Beau watches her best friend—her love—soften. Leaving her tail looped around Beau’s waist—tightening it to urge her in closer, the rasp of the rough skin grazing sweetly across Beau’s skin, making her shiver with it and watch as Jester’s eyes darken with her reaction—Jester lifts her hands to Beau’s mouth. She laughs when Beau pretends to bite. Waits for her to settle again and then presses her thumbs into the corners, lifts Beau’s lips into a mockery of a smile. ‘See?’ Jester bats her lashes, smiling her own smile, that familiar one she does with lips pressed tight to contain it, like Beau won’t be able to tell she’s teasing if she keeps her smile small. ‘So pretty.’

Beau rolls her eyes. ‘Thanks,’ she tries to say. It’s harder when Jester is still holding her face. ‘But I’m not worried or anything about this, Jes. Just confident.’ She waggles her brows. Sees plainly that Jester isn’t buying it.

‘Beau.’

‘Jester.’

She drops her hands to Beau’s shoulders. Searches her expression for a long time. Finally, smiles. Pulls Beau in and kisses her, winds her arms around Beau’s shoulders tight and tighter, leaning backwards until Beau has to chase her and catch them both, a splayed hand on the rough top of the desk, her other on the small of Jester’s back.

Jester will ask her again. Probably soon. Maybe even in again in the next few minutes. Whenever she does, Beau hopes she has the words to give her. The right ones, good ones. Hopes she can give them over whole and lovely. But until then, she can kiss her the way she deserves to be kissed, again and again and again.

**Author's Note:**

> hi im unicyclehippo on tumblr as well, feel free to swing on by & say hi or send me a prompt x


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